'The King's Speech' & Discovering a Secret of London

Dear Reader,

This morning I found myself on a boat near Warwick Avenue. I was meeting the film maker of the documentary I am promoting and she lives on a canal boat in 'Little Venice'. Nestled among little gardens and bobbing gently on the water it was the most serene place I have seen in London so far.

I arrived about 10.30 with croissants as I had promised! We ate them over coffee and a chat about the film and enjoyed the passing of the morning. It was so lovely to be on a boat with all the ducks and geese gently cruising past. I felt very envious that she was able to live there.

Around midday I left the calm of the boat and headed into town. Mum and I are were having lunch after which I had planned to meet B.

B and I met in Notting Hill and he bought our tickets to see 'The King's Speech'. There are many cinemas there but we chose 'The Coronet' as it offers half price tickets for students on Mondays (B is studying Law). Walking in to the screen we were both astounded: the cinema used to be a theatre. We had a choice between sitting in the Royal Circle or the Stalls and it was almost empty! I could neither believe that we were about to watch a film in an old theatre nor the fact that there was so much choice and space! I feel that I have discovered one of London's secrets there.

'The King's Speech' was just as intriguing, sustaining and fulfilling as I expected. Compated to 'Black Swan' it is much less demanding of its audience yet also very pleasing. The film tells a simple story about how King George VI neither expected nor desired to become King and was in the unusual position of succeeding his brother whilst he was still alive. However, the film also highlights the advent of the radio and the King's requirement to make speeches that would be broadcasted to his people. Suffering from a speech impediment, King George VI required help in this respect and this is where the film centres its plot. Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush bounce off each other in what becomes the King's recovery and ability to form words without stuttering. Yet this does not occur without turmoil. His struggles provide an insight into the political turbulence of the period as well as form a firm basis for the relationship between the speech therapist and the King. Ultimately, the King is triumphant, not only in mastering his speech but in appreciating the value of true friendship and in realising his role for his country.

After the film B and I came home and I cooked a delcious sauce with bacon, chilli, garlic, courgette and cherry tomatoes to accompany some fresh pasta. We popped open a bottle of Prosecco too which, I must say, rounded off the day just perfectly.................................

A Full English & Visiting West Hampstead

Dear Reader,

Upon waking this morning I knew that something felt different. This morning I felt extra hungry and there was only one thing I wanted: a full English. Last night B had mentioned something about making waffles to which I had absent-mindedly acquiesed but bacon and eggs now beckoned.

We mosied into the kitchen together and, keeping with English tradition, I chose to make tea instead of coffee and began grilling some tomatoes and frying the bacon. B was still intent on waffle making and starting whipping egg whites and making a fuss of flour. Meanwhile, my egg was frying.

Within ten minutes I had a full plate of bacon, eggs, tomatoes and toast with a big mug of tea. B finally had his batter made and soon was able to join me in breakfast heaven. There's nothing like a totally satisfying breakfast.

I must say, it rather made up for last night's 'meal'. It was B's turn to organise our Saturday night and he decided to take me for a meal inside Westfield. Inside. With no windows. On a Saturday night. Needless to say I was not impressed but as it was his night I tried to bite my tongue.

We ate at Byron which is a burger chain here. I had a normal burger with BBQ sauce which was nice but not particularly satisfying. We went for some pudding elsewhere and had Banoffee Pie which we both enjoyed plus I had a glass of rose Champagne. Rose or 'Pink' Champagne has traditionally been the preferred beverage of prostitutes in Paris but I think a little 'je ne sais quoi' doesn't go amiss sometimes! Oh la la.

This afternoon I met a friend in West Hampstead. We had hot chocolate together in a rustic sort of bar and then she showed me where she lived (she has only just moved here). West Hampstead is quite a pleasant sort of area of London, slightly quieter and with some nice little shops and cafes. I rather liked it.

On arriving home I found B busily filling out work experience applications for big law firms. The deadline for them is tomorrow and the work experience or 'Vac Scheme' application is almost as extensive as the one for a training contract. We have both been looking at them all evening and they are quite exhausting.

Tomorrow I have a meeting in the morning and some other bits and bobs. B and I are going to see 'The King's Speech' which I am particularly excited about though.........................

Byron Burgers & A Visit From Mum

Dear Reader,

Today my Mum visited and it was lovely to see her.

I live close to Westfield, Europe's largest shopping centre (which I know is no match for the American shopping malls), and we went straight there for lunch. We didn't eat anywhere particularly special but it was nice to just sit down for a while together and chat. I am very close to my Mum and it is always so nice to see her.

We wandered a little round the shops and then perused 'The Carphone Warehouse' for a new phone for Mum. She chose a Blackberry Pearl which is the same phone that I have!

Afterwards we came back to the flat that I live in with B and had coffee. Mum is a barrister and B is studying Law so they both had a good natter about that and B was able to ask her questions about particular areas. I almost feel that I should be doing law too!

I forgot to mention yesterday that I received a phone call inviting me to another interview. It is with a company that trains people in hospitality and supplies staff to hotels and restaurants. I think they are interviewing me with a view to work within their office in some capacity, I am hoping that I could integrate some PR into the role if I was successful. Their office is near Parsons Green which is a lovely, leafy almost suburban area of London. It has lots of nice pubs and I have been to the Champgane bar there before now too. I would be very happy to work in that area!

B's sister and her boyfriend turned up early this evening and Mum went home. It's my birthday on Thursday and she is also coming over then, hopefully for some cake if B makes one. I would rather not have to bake my own Birthday cake and have hinted heavily (that is, I told B) that I should like him to bake me a cake. I have also 'hinted' that I would like a guinea pig for my birthday but whereas there is a chance that he might bake me a cake, I think there is no chance that he'll give me a guinea. I can always dream!

We are both sat on the sofa as I write this and soon we are going out for a meal. It is B's Saturday tonight so we are doing what he wants: going for a burger. Luckily, we are going to a restaurant called Byron (not to be confused with the famous poet, Lord Byron, who was totally bonkers by the way) which does rather nice burgers, or so I hear! At least he didn't choose Mcdonald's...................

Feeling Low and High on the London Eye

Dear Reader,

I haven't written for a while as I have been waiting for some news about a job. I had attended two interviews, the second for which I had to prepare a presentation, and was subsequently told that they were choosing between me and one other person. I had beaten six other people.

So I had been waiting for almost three weeks for a decision and whether they would give me the job or not. On Tuesday this week I decided to send them an email reaffirming my interest in the job and gently enquiring about a decision. They responded ever so quickly: they are going to decide in a month.

Feeling slightly despondent I started thinking about what I might do instead. I have been doing some freelance PR for a budding poet who used to be homeless, John Smallshaw, and am going to continue doing that for the time being. He had a radio interview on Wedneday for the London Festival Fringe which was very exciting so things are definitely on the move there.

Yesterday I spent the day with my Mum in court (don't worry, she's not a criminal, just a barrister!) and then met B and some of his law friends from College for a drink. We were having a really nice evening and B suggested we all went to get some food. No one else was really interested though so the two of us went to find a restaurant. But after ten minutes B suddenly decided that he wanted to go home. I was crushed because with him studying so hard I had been so excited to be out socialising and having fun with him. I had also envisaged a romantic meal in Soho with some nice food and some proper catch up time.

We arrived back home and I felt so upset I barely wanted to look at, let alone speak to, B. We had lost each other on the walk from the tube to our flat and he had gone via Waitrose to buy some nice food for us to eat instead of going to a restaurant. I really didn't feel like eating though.

Eventually we talked and we ate the food and things seemed a little better. This morning I felt unbearably low and lonely though and B found me crying into the sofa. The radio was playing Eva Cassidy's 'Time After Time' which really didn't help!

We talked again and decided that we should have lunch once a week as well as doing something on Saturday evening. Currently, we have the Saturday night rule which means B is not allowed to work and we take it in turns organising the evening. This year demands a lot from him and there are not many moments when he is able to relax and have a break from his studying. I had started to feel a little neglected though. I know that he does not mean to make me feel that way and it is the demands of this year bur hopefully having lunch together too will help.

Today was full of surprises, the lagest of which was going up the London Eye and drinking Champagne! I have just become a member of the alumni committee of the university I went to and attended my first meeting this evening. Afterwards, we were able to go on the London Eye for free as one of the guys works for a company who's client is the London Eye. We had a very helpful guide, Nina, who popped open some Champagne for us and pointed out lots of London landmarks that could be seen from the pod we were in. So many iconic buildings from Buckingham Palace to Somerset House can all be seen from the high climbs of the London Eye. All of London sparkled beneath us and it was quite breath taking to watch it all as we slowly climbed above the city. Enjoying a glass of Champgane just made it perfect.

Afterwards I came home to be with B, especially after the events of last night/this morning and now we are going to bed................

Seeing 'Black Swan' and Dreaming About the Ballet

Dear Reader,

Last night I saw 'Black Swan'. It was enthralling, dark and dramatic and I loved it.

'Black Swan' follows the life of Nina, a naive ballet dancer ensnared by her domineering mother. Nina wins the part of the Swan Queen, possibly the most prestigious role a ballet dancer can aspire to, and as such is subject to the pressure and competition that the role demands. Nina can dance the part of the white swan beautifully but struggles to portray the black swan, the darker alter ego that seduces the prince during the ballet, ensuring that the white swan has lost her hope of freedom.

The film reflects this intrinsic dichotomy between beauty and perfection, sexuality and desire, white and black. Her self-doubts reflected in those around her, Nina is convinced that her under study is attempting to usurp her and take the Swan Queen role for herself. She is wary of her mother's insistence on control and dominance in Nina's own life. Her vulnerability is replaced by her sexual awakening. The film creschendos dramatically as Nina's deeper desires surface and her transformation into the Black Swan is complete. 

I was riveted by the film and left the cinema dreaming of Swan Lake and the beauty of its tale. The music enchants the film and I wished that I could dance as gracefully and elegantly as the ballerinas. I did not, however, envy the state of their feet, bruised with broken nails and worn down with endurance.

Today has been a typical lazy Sunday and I have relished it. During every other day of the week I feel guilty if I don't go and out and do something worth while (or something that I think is productive in some way!). But on Sundays I feel no guilt about staying on the sofa and moving rarely.

I have read the paper, a little, proved my domestic worth in baking biscuits and making soup, attended to a few PR duties and watched some tv, all from the comfort of a soft, cushioned sofa. Ahhh Bliss.

This evening B and I have watched some more tv and eaten delicious chocolates. I couldn't be more happy............

Black Swan and the Couch Potato

Dear Reader,

The last two days have slipped by and I have wandered through them in a dream-like daze.

Yesterday I had another meeting with the poet and the film maker who has made a documentary of him. The meeting was quite long and, after meeting briefly with Mum, I came home and crashed on the sofa. It turned out that B had been relaxing all day so we spent the evening together and watched 'Marley & Me.' It is such a nice film, even though it has a sad ending, but I could barely keep my eyes open during it. B even kept looking at me to check I was awake!

After feeling tired last night I slept in late this morning and have spent most of the day relaxing. B and I got up and he made some coffee in his machine. He's a bit of an addict so we have all the equipment from a grinder to a full blown machine and of course a copious supply of coffee. Enjoying the coffee and the slow pace of the day I pottered around before heading up to Westfield to do some shopping. I think Westfield has been labelled Europe's largest shopping centre and today it was brimming. I collected our tickets to see 'Black Swan' at the Vue cinema there this evening and then popped in to a few shops. I tried on a few cardigans in Uniqlo, one of which was really nice, decided to take it, exited the changing room and then wandered aimlessly around the shop, disillusioned with my potential purchase and put it back. Why? I'm not even sure why. Maybe you can tell me?

On the way back though I did buy some beautiful tulips. They are a mixture of colours: pink, white, yellow and red and I have put them in a big white jug we have with a pink ribbon tied around it.

At home B decided to have a break from his reading and we watched the last episode of 'Medium.' For those of you who haven't seen it, 'Medium' is a tv series about a female psychic who dreams about crimes and helps the police to solve them. Allison juggles a home life with three children and a loving husband with her visions and insights and what they lead her to. I love it because it mixes a normal life with paranormal activity. Watching the last episode though was devastating and I couldn't help crying even after it had ended. B kept looking at me as if I was walking time bomb that might explode at any minute with fresh tears. We've been together for seven years but I still manage to surprise him!

I am still on the sofa now but soon we are going out to the cinema. I can't wait to see 'Black Swan', it looks darkly dramatic and thrilling..............

Chicken Bones, Ticket Machines and Getting "Past It": Just Another Ordinary Day

Dear Reader,

Tell me, what would you do if your Mum was inconsoable over a chicken bone? If a ticket machine swalled your £20 note? And if your boyfriend told you he would no longer be interested once you hit 25?

As I mentioned yesterday, I went back to Brighton to spend some time with my Mum and enjoy some time at home. One of the delights of living by the sea, as many of you will know, are the swarms of Sea Gulls that cloud the sky and steal your sandwiches. We have one that lives in our garden.

Sylvia (I decided she must be female) frequents our back door every morning. A "tap, tap" announces her presence and she is usually rewarded for her patince with last night's left overs. If she's lucky she will also recieve a rasher of raw bacon. She loves it, gobbling it down and often calling out in delight. She has even stepped in to our house on occasion but only when she is feeling particularly bold.

Yesterday afternoon as we were drinking tea Sylvia decided to drop in, tapping at the window in the normal fashion. Obligingly, my Mum went to fetch her some left overs which she had been saving for the gull. These left overs consisted of old roast chicken. The meat was still on the bone.

Thinking that Sylvia would separate the meat from the bone before eating the contents, Mum threw the food in the bird's path. But Sylvia was too quick. With hawk-like finesse she swooped towards the chicken and swallowed it in one. Bone and all.

"Oh my God," Mum said, "I've killed the gull."

We both peered at Sylvia. She seemed......ok. Ok, except she had a bulbous bump in her next which extended sideways. Then, she flew away up on to a nearby roof.

By now Mum was fretting "I've killed her!" They had been friends for some time now. "Oh, what am I going to do!" Well, it's not as if you can feasibly catch a sea gull and then pull a chicken bone out of it.

We just had to wait to see if she came back.

This morning as I was getting ready to catch a train back to London we heard a tap at the back door. Looking out in to the garden we could see Sylvia glaring through the window at us. Her neck was still bulging but hey, she was still alive! Mum was over the moon.

I arrived back in London around midday and had an hour until I had to go out again. I am doing some PR for an up and coming poet and was accompanying him to an interview today.

Back at the tube station I approached a ticket machine so that I could top up my Oyster Card. For once I had cash and thought I'd use that instead of paying on my card. After choosing to top up by £10 I put a £20 note in to the machine expecting change. Nothing came out. Not a penny. Not even a glimmer. I was running late but furious. Cursing out loud I hastily looked for a ticket officer. No one was to be found (that's the trade unions for you). It was 1.15 and I really needed to be catching the tube. Zig zagging between the machine, in the hope that something may have popped out (surely anything can happen if you believe hard enough?!), and the ticket office, I ran myself into a frenzy and managed only to catch the attention of the security guard. When I did find the ticket man it was too late and I had to get on.

The interview though went really well and I managed to get home by 5 before my boyfriend and could make sure I was looking relaxed and pretty for when he returned. He arrived about half an hour later in quite a bad mood.

"Long day?" I enquired.

"Yeah," he sighed and proceeded to pour himself a whisky. Barely even a hug for me.

The evening progressed and B perked up to his usual self. In fact he felt so perky that he felt bold enough to tell me that once I was 25 (I'm just about to turn 22 now) I'd be past it. Old. Unattractive. Past it. He then said he was joking. Humph! Men do have the strangest sense of humour sometimes. I think I could forgive him as he made me hot water bottle this evening and said that he missed me last night.

But seeing as he's 24 I think he's lucky that I don't try and apply the same rule......

Home to Brighton

Dear Reader,

Today I went home to Brighton. I caught a train just before 12.00 and was at the station by 1.00, my Mum anxiously awaiting my arrival.

But my arrival was somewhat hindered when my ticket wouldn't allow me through the barrier. I showed it to the officer who asked to see my railcard. I foraged around in my handbag, the nearest thing to a bottomless pit in existence, and managed to find the photo card but not the accompanying piece which shows its expiry date. Apologising that I could not find it, I expected some words of reassurance. I was met with silence.

Spying another girl nearby in a similar situation, I thought I should wait. Another man then began talking to me, "I'm afraid I'm going to give you a penalty fair," he said. A penalty fair! I felt horrified, partly because I did have the missing rail card somewhere and partly because my keen sense of right and wrong has always kept me out of trouble. I couldn't help it, I cried.

The man had begun filling out a form which I had to sign. He looked up to invite my signature and saw my streaming tears and runny nose. "Oh," he said, "Why are you crying?" He looked guilty.

"It's only that I've never been in trouble," I weeped.

He reassured me that he had been distributing penalty fairs all morning and that I was making him feel bad. I wanted to crawl into my handbag and let the darkness engulf me. Still distraught I paid the penalty and left.

Then I was able to meet Mum. Still crying, she decided we should go out for lunch.

Lunch at Cafe Nia, just bordering the North Laines, was delicious. I had a beef tagine whilst mum had a homemade burger and ships. Delicious. I felt much better.

The rest of the day was spent relaxing and enjoying being at ease at home and spending time with Mum. We live near Preston Park which is towards the outskirts of Brighton and is very quiet with lots of birds singing in the garden. It is just perfect.

Tomorrow I shall be going back to London. I am doing some freelance PR and am accompanying my client to his first interview tomorrow. Wish me luck!

Fortnum & Mason and Friends

Dear Reader,

Today London was at its best. It was a clear crisp day, the sun lending a golden halo to all the people and buildings it touched. It was the perfect day for my best friend to visit me.

We met at Tottenham Court Road just before lunch and started looking for a restaurant. For those of you who are not familiar with London, Tottenham Court Road sits just at the end of Oxford Street with Soho to its side. We meandered through Soho Square where a small statue of Charles II sits, and down Greek Street, taking a left until we reached Covent Garden. We saw a few places on the way but none jumped out at us.

Eventually we ended up in a pub just by Covent Garden. The interior was nice and the wine good but I must say the food was terrible. If only I could remeber the pub's name! It was the Marquess of something. Either way, I would not recommend it.

Not allowing the food to spoil our mood, we wove away through Covent Garden, looking in a few shops along the way. The square was relatively quiet although the usual street performers acted to an audience largely made of school boys.

We continued to Trafalgar Square and accross and up to Picadilly Circus. Finally, we reached Fortnum & Mason. I don't know if you have ever been in there but I could easily spend a whole day.

We began by browsing the tea & coffee, swanning between the strong 'Breakfast Blend' and the pleasant loose leaf tea. We admired biscuits, sighed at the jam and definitely avoided Christmas chocolate reindeer left overs! Downstairs we spied the Champagne and upstairs gazed in envy and awe at the beautifully painted tea pots and elegant china.

Upstairs we also found 'The Parlour'. We made a bee line for the window-seat with a view over Picadilly as the sun was just starting to set. Soon, the waitress came over with a menu. The speciality was ice cream and I promptly ordered two scoops: ginger & honey and straberries & shortbread on a cone. My friend ordered hers in a bowl and we both ordered coffee.

Of course, we were not having coffee and ice cream in any ordinary establishment. As if to prove this point, three rectangular silver trays appeared and were placed in front of us. A tea spoon sat neatly on one. Next, the coffee arrived richly steaming in two blue cups with saucers. These were each placed on a tray each. The tea spoon seemed a little lonely, especially as we had our own spoons with the coffee. The finale, of course, was the ice cream. My friend's arrived in a huge glass goblet. Placed next to me was a silver holder with two holes in. In each hole stood a separate cone, each topped with one of my chosen flavours. "I've got TWO ice creams!" I squealed to my friend. "Yes," she agreed, " It looks like a challenge to me!" (Take a look at the photo to the right which shows three ice cream cones. I had two but in the same fashion!) Never have I been so glad to have eaten so little lunch.

We finished our trip with a walk up Oxford Circus to the bus stop. My friend had to get back home and the evening was upon us. For once, it arrived on time and we parted. I was sad to see her go but it was such a perfect day and one I am sure we will repeat soon.

Oh to Banish Hunger

Dear Reader,

Are you feeling anxious? Has the title of this post inflicted that guilt-striken fear that only a man rattling a plastic bucket for blind mice in Indonesia can induce? Fear not. I am not about to bang on about helping hungry children or a rare species of tape worm that is dying out by the hour. No. I wish I could banish my own hunger.

When I am hungry I get grumpy. I don't mean the sort of sulky frowning type of mood. I'm talking heavy black clouds that descend upon my brow. Nothing is right until I am fed.

Yesterday I ate a lot of food so I thought I would eat a little less today to balance things out. I started the day with a banana, apple and raspberry smoothie for breakfast which was absolutely declious and made me feel self-indulgently healthy. I had a meeting at 10.30 so rushed out the door at 10.00, running late as usual, and hopped on the tube.

I arrived just after 10.30 and the meeting began. By 11.30 I was feeling a little hungry but thought it was too early for lunch in any case and told myself I was just being greedy. By 12.30 though my stomach was rumbling and I was beginning to lose concentration. By 1.00 I was starving. By 2.00 I had headache. The situation was becoming dangerous.

Suddenly I was able to get away. I was desperate to eat something but thought I should go home rather than buy a quick fix. I walked purposely to the bus stop on Oxford Street. There was food everywhere. Hell, even the waffle stands looked tempting. Luckily the bus arrived quickly and I was able to get home.

By now the hunger had reached my brain. Primal instinct had taken over and the black cloud descended. As I alighted the bus I saw Sainsbury's. "What a good idea," I thought, "I'll make some biscuits." I hurried over to the shop and promptly bought butter and icing sugar.

Next I raced home, strategically considering what I could eat, how quickly I could cook it, and how fast I could make the biscuits. I scanned the fridge, considering the options, and rested on sasuages, baked potato and salad. I turned on the grill, ripped out some foil and put the sasuages on it in a tin. I put them in the oven. The mission had started.

Forgetting about the biscuits I mixed the salad, spinach leaves littered the floor as I spun and dressed the leaves at the speed of light.  A potato! I had almost forgotten the baked potato. I checked the sasuages, they were smoking. I found a potato! I pricked it and pushed it into the microwave. BANG. The sasuages! One had popped but all was ok. I had things under control.

Implements strewn accross the surface, I found a plate and a place to put it amongst the debris. The sasuages were cooked. The baked potato was ready. The salad? The salad was superb. I assembled all on the plate and ate. The biscuits never got made............

Singing for a Soul Mate

Near where I live a Robin lives too. He has a large chest, ripely red, puffed and proud. I often see him perched on my door step. Every night he sings out loud.

At first the song confused me. It seems strange for a bird to be singing at night rather than the morning. "Maybe the street lights have confused him," my boyfriend mused. I do wonder.........

It began a few nights ago. It was about 11.30pm and we were thinking about going to bed. Just as we turned our lights out we heard it: the loudest song bird in existence. I couldn't believe the sound was real! But lo and behold a bird was singing loud and proud.

The next night the bird sang again. I had almost thought it was a black bird, so pretty is the song, but then I realised that it is just one bird singing. Blackbirds always sing together in competition.

Yesterday as I arrived home I saw the Robin on our neighbour's flowerpot. Then I knew. He hopped and flitted, unsure of me, and then settled in the next front garden on another pot. Looking at his huge round chest it dawned on me: this bird wants a mate.

So every night he sings. He sings his soulful little heart out, calling in hope for a female. I can even hear him now. I do think though that he might have more luck in the morning when he won't be disturbing any beauty sleep............

A Forgotten Princess

This evening I am going to bring your attention to Isabella de Medici, a Renaissance princess of Florence. Have you heard of her? I would be surprised if you have. I have just finished Caroline Murphy's biography of her and think that Isabella is a character worthy of particular note.

Isabella de Medici lived in sixteenth century Florence during a time when women rarely achieved financial independence and were controlled by their closest male relatives. Despite this, Isabella managed to acquire her own villa separate from her family; take a lover and live independently from her husband who resided in Rome. Intrigued?

Perhaps what is most interesting about Isabella's life is the protection she received from her father whilst he remained alive. Although he arranged her marriage to Paolo Orsini, Cosimo helped to ensure that Isabella did not join her husband in Rome after their wedding and purposely kept her at home. He then gave her her own villa to reside in in Florence.

For her part, Isabella feigned illness after illness, infinite interruptions and purposeful problems which always prevented her from staying with her husband in Rome. In fact, such were her protests that she never moved to her husband's residence for the entire length of their marriage. Such a feat was unheard of during a time when women were viewed as their husband's property and were controlled by them.

And while the cat's away the mice will play and so it was that Isabella began an affair with her husband's cousin, Troilo Orsini, which would eventually lead to both of their deaths. Yet while they lived love flourished between them.

Yet the succession of Isabella's brother to the Grand Dukedom of Florence after her father's death brought a dramatic change to Isabella's existence. Francesco disapproved of Isabella's lifestyle and the percieved dishonour it brought to the Medici family. As a result, he commissioned Isabella's husband to kill her and he did. Troilo had already fled into exile and years later he too was hunted down and killed.

I mention this rare and tragic story because I think that Isabella lived such a modern existence during a time when honour and convention were synonymous with politics and power and to live outside of the rules was to risk reputation and as a result one's own political position. Yet is it justifiable that she was killed for loving a man other than her husband? Would we accept that as a plausible argument for murder today? After her death her brother attempted to remove her from history altogether but I think that this woman should be revered and praised.

Sexual Attraction & Fairy Cakes

 Today I walked in to Gilly Hicks. Gilly Hicks is the latest addition to the Abercrombie empire. Gilly Hicks is using sexual attraction as a sales weapon.

Now, this point may not seem consequential nor of particular note considering that sex is frequently used as a sales technique. If you need an example look at the Virgin Atlantic advert (which I have to say is pretty damn brilliant). But whereas most adverts use sex in a suggestive way, Gilly Hicks overtly uses sex to the point of exploitation.

Today I walked in to the Westfield branch of the shop to see what it was like. At the door stood a semi naked male model. His sole role was to wait outside the shop, shirtless.

Inside I was shocked. All the staff were young females, tiny (I would guess a UK size 4), and all but one were wearing knickers. Knickers. Tiny little knickers. It was their uniform.

I mentioned to one of the girls my horror that they all had to wear knickers. "Oh," she shrugged, "They're pajama bottoms." These were the smallest pajama bottoms I have ever seen. I suppose at least she felt comfortable wearing them. I just can't help but think that it is ethically wrong to require young girls to wear the 'pajama bottoms' as uniform, especially as there are many other items in Gilly Hicks which would still flatter the girls but ensure their decency. Am I just a prude or do you agree with me?

On a lighter note, yesterday I made the most delicious little fairy cakes. I feel so proud of them that I have been desperate to write about them on here! I think the reason that they rose so perfectly and were so light and fluffy was because I warmed the butter slightly before creaming it with the sugar. By the time I had beaten in the egg the mixture was a smooth yellow paste just ready for the flour and a touch of milk. When I took them out of the oven they had risen to beautiful golden domes, round yet tall and abundantly scrumptious. I have almost eaten them all already........

I felt triumphant today, as if I could surmount any feat and overcome any obstacle.

I attended a PR training session this morning which was run by Triggerfish. The session was great and reinforced everything I already knew about PR from the various internships I have completed. It also taught me a few new handy tips and tricks. I found the session particularly useful as regards my first PR client, John Smallshaw, who will be reading his poems on the BBC radio soon..........

I did various other things today such as had coffee with Mum and contemplated the news but nothing really of note. I have felt very capable today and also very happy. I rather think that somehow everything is going to be alright.

Elephants & People

Today I was distracted from unemployment through meeting with a friend I went to school with. We had a really nice day out visiting the National Portrait Gallery and meandering round London.

But to more interesting stuff. Did you know that there are actually three species of elephant rather than two, that is the Indian and African, as previously thought? Well I discovered this fact today and really think that it's quite exciting! It turns out that there are two types of African elephant: the Savannah and Forest. Whereas before it has been thought that these were two types of the same species, it now transpires that these two strands of elephants are as genetically opposed as an Indian and African elephant. I feel like going over there and throwing a party for third species emancipation or something equally rejoicing and enthused that would make David Attenborough's eyes weep in horror. Let's see if they discover a fourth.....

Celeb Spots & the Thames Path

Yesterday I was on the tube when I saw a face I recognised. The man was short, had a dark grey dashing beard and was aged approximately around 50. Any guesses? It was the BBC Radio comedien Richard Herring! I also saw him recently at a BBC party I went to and at a gig in Camden.

I met my cousin at Monument and we walked along the river and had lunch at Zizzi by the Globe. This particular branch of Zizzi is really nice because it is situated on the 2nd floor and overlooks the Thames. It was such a nice day yesterday too, it made a lovely view.

After lunch we continued walking all the way along the river, past Somerset House, St. Paul's and the Houses of Parliament, all the way to Plimlico.

By the time I got back home I was quite tired and crashed out on the sofa for a while. My boyfriend was still revising (he is doing so well!) and I didn't want to disturb him so stayed on the sofa in the living room. By the evening though he had had enough for the day so we went for dinner at Wahaca.

Today I am going to a meeting to organise a project with the charity I used to work for. It feels nice to be doing something useful.

 Yesterday it seemed that the stars were on my side. I had a happy surprise and what I had thought was going to be a relaxed day at home turned out very differently indeed.

During my mid-morning Facebook check (time has to be passed somehow......!) my cousin, who also lives in London, invited me over to hers that evening. I was thrilled to hear from her and of course accepted her invitation. I thought the occasion marked an excuse for a new dress so took myself off to explore the sales. I was very happy to find a beautifully embellished dress which hardly cost anything at all.

I returned home to find my boyfriend busily revising (he has exams next week) so put on the film 'Bright Young Things' and settled down for the afternoon. Having never seen it before, I was unsure what to expect but actually really enjoyed it. The film gently shows the dichotomy between young people's carefree attitude to living and the realities that, at some point, must permeate a superficial existence and lifestyle. I would definitely recommend it. 

In the evening I arrived at my cousin's for a nice meal she had cooked and then we went out. Our first stop was a house party in Chelsea which some of her friends were at. It was quite a small affair but fun and I met some interesting people. We then headed to 151 for some boogying and saw some more of my cousin's friends. I had booked a taxi for 2.30am and, after some more dancing, it was suddenly time to go. It was such a nice evening and my cousin and I hadn't seen each other for so long.

Today, as you can imagine, I am not feeling on top form. My boyfriend wants me to hurry up on here so that we can go to Mcdonald's! A burger might just do the trick though......

A New Year, A New Start

The start of 2011 will mark my first whole year in London. I moved here with my boyfriend in September but still feel very new to Britain's capital city. Within two weeks of moving here I landed a job with a charity to help those who have been homeless return to employment. As a graduate I had felt so anxious after hearing horifying statistics about the the sheer number of us who were looking for, and largely unable to find, work. But I was fortunate enough to find my place with the charity and had such a great time working there. The only problem was, as is the case with many charities, that they could not afford to keep me on in the New Year.

So, a New Year and a new start it is. 2011 will be my first full year in London. I currently have no idea what I will be doing today, tomorrow and certainly not next week! Although unemployment is fun at the moment (I have just finished eating breakfast in bed) I hope it doesn't last for too long. Let's just see what the future brings.........